Making Love To Death (One Night With Death) (6 page)

“
I have a little boy...”
Your little
boy
.

“
I know. And I want to be with the two of you
forever.”

Oh God, was he going to kill them both?

Emma began to shake in his arms. She tried to untangle
herself from him, but something was pulling her to him, pressing them
tightly together. His cock was still embedded in her, and she felt
as though his cock was grabbing her, sucking her, melding her firmly
to him. There was a fierce suction and she could feel her juices
flowing freely. But her juices didn't ooze out of her pussy. They
were being lapped up and sucked up—by his cock.

Her eyes grew wide and frightened. What was happening?
She tried to pull away, but she was held fast by his hands and his
piercing gaze.

“
Emma...”

“
What are you doing? What is it that you're doing
to me?” she breathed.

Her mind was struggling against the wave of pleasure
that was spreading over her body. His cock felt so sinfully good.
The way it moved and sucked and filled her. She wanted him to take
more of her. Her head fell back as she let out a groan.
“Oh...whatever you're doing...don't stop...”

Her head snapped up as she heard her own delirious
words. “Just...what are you doing to me?” she demanded,
trying to keep her voice firm. Her body was writhing to give in to
the foggy pleasure, while her mind fought to resist the overwhelming
desire that was fast clouding her senses.

“
Taking you...and giving me, to you,” he
replied softly.

“
What?”

“
You can feel it, can't you? You can feel me
sucking you in, drinking in your sweet nectar. And still you are so
wet. The exchange is necessary. I have to take you, and give you
what I have.”

“
Your...cock is sucking me...?” Emma looked
incredulous.

Death nodded and quirked a wry smile. “You can't
compare me to an ordinary human man. I'm not human...yet.”

Emma blinked at him, her breathing quickening as she
felt his cock swell and throb in her. He was so aroused, so hard, so
ready. “Come with me,” she whispered.

His strong hands shifted to her waist and he moved her
up and down his shaft. She caught the rhythm and began to move on
her own as he thrust into her. Their pace intensified, and he pushed
deeper into her. Their eyes burned with hunger as they pushed their
bodies towards each other more intensely, more intimately, more
urgently. They were both cresting unstoppably towards a violent
climax. The heat and the hunger were consuming them both, and Emma
felt like her mind and body were going to burst into flames any
second.

Her orgasm shot through her without warning and she
cried out as her body lost all control. A white heat burnt before
her eyes as she screamed and shattered into a million pieces. She
could feel him spurting deeply into her, shooting his warm wet seed
into her body. He gave as much as he took, and more. He kept moving
in her as she came, prolonging her orgasm and pushing her higher
until she thought she might never come back down.

Her cries subsided into pants and sighs as he lowered
her onto her back. Emma buried her face in the crook of his neck and
held him tightly. She squeezed her eyes shut as he planted a
lingering kiss on her forehead. He had told her right at the
beginning that there would be no tears and no goodbyes. She would be
strong. But she just needed to hold him for a while more.

Forever.

A memory was forever.

Perhaps that was what he meant.

Forever and never. Two sides of the same coin.

She held him until the darkness receded around them.
She shivered as she felt his arms release her and the heat around
them fade as cool air rushed in.

Cool air-conditioned air.

Emma blinked up at the fluorescent lights overhead. She
was staring at the ceiling of her office. With a gasp, she scrambled
up to find herself sitting on the couch at the corner of her office.
She was still wearing her black skirt, and her bra was in place. But
her blouse was lying in shreds on her office floor.

Clutching the side of her head to stop the room from
spinning, she became aware of the sounds of chatter and footsteps
filtering in from outside her office. Hurriedly, she picked up the
pieces of her shredded blouse and shoved them into a drawer. Walking
over to the small closet behind her desk, she opened it and pulled
out a crisp white blouse. She always kept a set of extra clothes and
shoes in her office, for emergencies. And this qualified as an
emergency.

Just as she did up the last button on her blouse, her
secretary poked her head round the door and asked, “You were
looking for me, Miss Davis?”

“
Yes. Um...where were you, Suzie? You...weren't
at your desk,” Emma began slowly.

Suzie looked confused. “I came back to my desk as
soon as I passed Mr Cunningham's documents to the courier. You said
you wanted the documents signed by today.”

“
Yes. Yes, of course. And...the other
secretaries...were they all at their desks...when you left?”

“
I think so. Most of them anyway. Is anything
the matter, Miss Davis?” Suzie frowned.

“
No. No. That is all, Suzie. Thank you.”

Emma slumped into her chair and took deep, steadying
breaths. She had seen him again, and made love to him. That had
been real. And it had been so incredible, so sweet and...sad. She
could sense that he wanted to tell her something, but couldn't. But
how do you question Death? There would always be more questions than
answers where Death was concerned.

Could she live with that?

Everyone else did.

So why couldn't she?

Her tears were falling freely down her chin onto the
legal pad in front of her. Emma glared down at the splatters on the
paper and with a sudden, violent sob, ripped the page out viciously,
feeling as though she was tearing out her own heart. Anger was just
as expression of pain. It gave the pain something to do, something
to destroy. Crushing up the paper in her fist, she hurled it across
the room and swiped away her tears.

With shaky hands, she yanked her compact mirror out of
her bag and concentrated on touching up her makeup. Just as she
finished slicking on her lipstick, her phone rang.

Emma snatched it up, almost grateful for the
interruption. “Yes, Suzie?”

“
There's a Mr Damien Blake on the line for you.”

“
Who?” Emma pinched the bridge of her nose,
trying to recall all the names of her clients. This name didn't ring
a bell. “Is he a client of the firm?”

“
No. But he would like to set up a meeting with
you.”

“
Okay. New client,” Emma said curtly. “Set
it up then.”

“
Yes, Miss Davis. But...” Suzie's voice
faltered over the phone.

“
But what? Tell him our standard rates. And if
he retains our firm to act for him, then...”

“
Yes, I've already informed him of our charges.
But...he wants to meet you, well, very urgently. He...”

“
Ask him to come down to our office tomorrow.”

“
Mr Blake is in the hospital.”

“
Oh? What happened to him?”

She heard Suzie swallow loudly. “Er...he...he,
um....”

“
Yes, yes, get to it. What does he want?”

“
He's requesting...”

“
That I attend to him at the hospital,” Emma
cut in flatly.

“
Yes. I told him that you don't...”

“
Fine.”

“
What, Miss Davis?”

“
I said I'll do it. I'll go see what he wants.
Let him know that our charges for out of office meetings are triple
the hourly rate.”

“
Yes, Miss Davis. I'll let him know that you'll
meet him tomorrow evening.”

Emma put down the phone and powered up her computer.
New client, new business. Time to get busy. And in her experience,
getting busy was about the only way she could deal with the void in
her heart. The void he had left, and left again.

Quietly, Emma opened her drawer and looked down at the
remnants of her torn blouse. She touched the soft fabric lightly,
remembering Death's powerful hands gripping her blouse and ripping it
from her body. As she ran her fingers over the sheer material, she
could feel his touch, his heat, his passion. He had held her and
loved her. And this time she hadn't dreamed it. He did come back.
He had come for her, for the last time.

And he was gone.

She picked up the framed photograph of her six-year-old
son, Luc, from her desk and put it into the drawer with her ripped
blouse. These were the two things that would remind her constantly
of Death and what he had shared with her. Emma exhaled a long, shaky
breath. He said he knew. He knew about Luc, and he said he wanted
to be with them forever. What did he mean?

She shook her head and closed the drawer softly. If she
had asked him, he would simply have told her that he meant exactly
what he meant.

Ah, he would be the Death of her.

Emma smirked. That was funny. To a degree.

But what was even funnier, and sadder, was that she
seemed to be courting Death, wishing for Death. Emma gave herself a
firm, sobering mental kick and stood up. She needed to be with
people right now.

Opening the door, she stopped at her secretary's desk
and said, “There's a staff reception on the thirteenth floor
conference room to welcome the two new partners. Shall we go?”

“
Oh.” Suzie looked up, startled. “But
you never attend the receptions, Miss Davis,” Suzie blurted out
in surprise. “You're forever rushing to finish up your work
and...”

Emma gave a lopsided smile. “Never say never.
And forever can't be forever. So, stop typing already. Let's go
eat, drink and be merry!”

Part
3: Death and the Bride

*****

Love hurts and
passion burns.

Death will have
to pay the ultimate price for his lapse and his undying love and
desire for Emma.

Is their love
strong enough to overcome every obstacle in their path—even
Death?

*****

The flames leaped and danced around Death, taunting and
tasting his naked flesh. He gritted his teeth against the scorching
heat and the sharp flicks of pain as the flames lapped at him. He
stood in the circle of advancing, raging fires, his back ramrod
straight against the stake, his hands tied behind his back. He had
to burn, for all that he had done. These fires, these torments were
his to bear, for everything that he shouldn't have done, and for
something that he must now do. It was the only way, the only way to
be reborn and redeemed.

His tanned skin was reddening and blistering as the heat
intensified. The fires became whips, lashing at his torso to draw
blood. Boils bubbled on his skin and burst open, spilling blood and
pus down the length of his muscular body.

Death bowed his blond head and closed his eyes. Only
her memory kept him sane. He would endure this for her. For Emma.

He could see her, smiling, laughing, hugging her son.
Their
son. He had held her in his arms again, and even
through the acrid smell of his own burning flesh, he could still
smell her lingering scent. She had melted against his hard body,
yielding, surrendering to his touch, his kiss, his desire. He would
never forget her voice, her soft whispers and murmurs, her moans and
cries of ecstasy. Behind his closed eyelids, against the pulsing
red, her soft curves shimmered into view. He saw the gentle curve of
her neck, her waist, the swell of her beautiful breasts, her nipples
erect and glistening, her thighs quivering as he parted them to taste
her. He could still see the sheen of sweat on her skin as she rode
him, her hips grinding down on him as he thrust deep into her. She
had come so hard for him, his Emma...

The flames flicked at his belly with their barbed tips,
slicing his gut open. Death clenched his jaw, refusing to cry out.
These fires were meant to torment him, test him, cleanse him—and
hopefully, kill him.

No human would be able to withstand these infernal
flames. They burnt higher, hotter and hungrier. The intense heat
would have melted a mere mortal's flesh to a puddle of blood and
piss, liquified his heart and liver and disintegrated his bones even
before he could open his mouth to scream. But Death was no mortal.
He took mortal lives and took human form when he chose to show
himself to the humans whose lives he was about to take and whose
souls he was about to reap. And it was in human form that he took
Emma Davis that night. Emma had been seduced by a tall, blond,
handsome strange with brilliant, blue eyes that mesmerized her and a
lean, tanned body that she was powerless to deny. That sweet, young
virgin had made love to Death that night, and everything changed.
Her innocence, her ardor, her heat—Death had lost himself in
her that night. And the moment that he lost control of his heart and
his mind, he knew. He knew that this singular lapse would destroy
him.